Pocket Change
by Wicker
Summary: Hermione is an editor to a popular women's magazine. Draco is a rock star. Blaise is a wealthy metrosexual. And I refuse to mention Snape. Includes HrDM, HrBZ, and some mangoes.
1. An Order

Author's Note: The chapters for this fic will likely be short and somewhat rapid. I churn 'em out quickly. And such. Copyrights are the usual...we L-O-V-E-S you, JKR.

xxx

CHAPTER ONE

Hermione tapped busily away at her computer. Her article was nearly done; she needed a few more adjustments before she would hand it in (a week early) to her boss. It was a long and detailed report on lipstick and hair colour, and how they could both mesh in the most attractive ways.

Hermione, at twenty-three, was the lead editor and writer for _Yes!Glitter_, the newest and hottest magazine for women aged eighteen to twenty-nine. Already it was rumoured that her promotion was drawing nearer and nearer, and time would only tell when she would inherit the company, as the owner (Cassandra Sorney, aged fifty-two) was childless and was planning on soon retiring to the Caribbean with her boyfriend (aged twenty-two).

In the cubicle across from her, her friend Sharon was chewing on her pen and staring thoughtfully at her screen, as if wondering what to write next. She probably was doing that, Hermione supposed, except not on an article but on a letter to her mother.

"Alright, then, Sharon?" Hermione asked.

Sharon looked up, flustered. "Yeah," she said. "I mean, what the hell do I tell my mom? I think she still thinks I'm a lesbian."

"Have you thought about telling her you're not?"

"Yes." Sharon sighed. "But then she asks why I don't have a boyfriend, which leads to all these awkward questions. Hermione, is there something wrong with me, or what?"

Sharon always fretted about boyfriends, which Hermione didn't really understand. Once she'd hit her, well, peak, so to say, she had had no end of attractive boys fawning over her. Hermione's chest had received more of a curve, her hair had smoothed out, her hips had taken on shape. She was quite pretty, and though not astonishingly beautiful she was outgoing enough to become attractive to most men.

The fact she had more than her share of money helped, too.

"No, Sharon," Hermione soothed. "You're fine. Let's go out for coffee at lunch, okay?"

Just then Candace, the head editor, bustled up. Candace was almost always so distracted it was if she had a very tender hold on the object RELAXATION, which she had tucked under her elbow and was continually letting slip to bounce on the floor.

"Granger!" she cried, hurriedly. "Are you done your article? Nearly? Good! Dragon's booking was cancelled and now we can interview him, thank God! We'll sell about a million copies with his face plastered on the cover!"

Hermione coughed and spat out the water she'd been drinking, which got on her keyboard. Panicky, she dabbed at it with a tissue. "I can't interview him!" she yelped, still sputtering and trying to soak up the water.

But Candace had already gone.

Dragon was really Draco Malfoy, her arch nemesis at Hermione's old school. After graduation he'd hit it big, digging right into the music industry. His father hadn't approved at first, but apparently Lucius Malfoy didn't approve of anything until he got a share of it. So once Draco began to forward ten percent of his profits to his beloved father, Lucius had been quite supportive.

Hermione hated Draco. A lot.

Sharon had a glazed look to her eyes. "You're so lucky," she sighed. "You get to talk to him."

"I'd let you do it if I could," Hermione grumbled, saving her document and sending it to the printers. She busied herself with retrieving it and sending it to Candace's office, still hot from the press, while she thought.

Draco… the last time he'd seen her, she'd still been awkward, stifled into a sort of shyness by her two best friends, who were boys. It was hard to be attractive to any boy when almost everyone thought you were the stern property of two others who had been like brothers to her. (Well, she'd had a fling with Ron, but they had both been as suited to each other as a nail and a stag. The only time they went together was when the stag was beheaded and its antlers mounted on the wall.) Draco had been very mocking of Hermione when she was younger.

She could fix herself up, that's what she could do. Maybe she'd be able to shock him enough to get the upper hand. Hermione smiled to herself as she sat back down at her desk. If she could make him feel foolish, that would be fantastic. And that would make a fantastic story for the article, too. The Dragon: Not As Cool As You Might Think.

Perfect. She'd start tonight.

xxx

Hermione had gone home and taken a long bath, using her favourite raspberry bubbles. She went through all the usual beauty treatments; facial masks and lotions, herbal hair rinses and teeth whiteners. She even waxed her legs.

Hermione usually went for a natural look, which was little makeup and mostly just her personality, but since this was Draco, the next morning she added some more to it. She didn't load on the makeup, however - she just put on enough to look glamorous. She was a writer for a beauty magazine, after all - she knew how to look gorgeous. So when she got to work, she was positively glowing.

She'd also gotten a lot of sleep beforehand, as well, and was free of dark, unattractive half circles beneath her eyes. Draco wasn't due until after lunch, however, so Hermione spent her time coaching her friend Alison (tearful after her fifth break-up with her lazy, good-for-nothing boyfriend) and talking animatedly to Ginny Weasley on the phone.

Ginny preferred to be called Ginevra these days; it was so much more attractive, apparently. Ginny was in the business industry, having also fled the wizarding world to the more attractive challenges of the muggle world. Ginny was an business advisor, and was one of those rich bitch ladies that wore slimming clothes of dark colour, and intimidated men.

By the time noon came around, Hermione ate a carrot, then checked to make sure no ugly orange bits were stuck in her teeth. Then, at around one in the afternoon, she floated towards the makeup and change rooms, where all the interviewed celebrities got done up before their interviews.

She could hear the strains of a guitar, then a female voice shrieking something about angst. Someone had cranked up the stereo. Hermione peeked into the room, where a group of women were clustered around a tall, slender man, whose hair was so pale it flashed silver in the bright light bulbs fixated along the tops of the mirrors, which ran from wall to wall.

Draco Malfoy.

Draco was smiling, and waving the girls off. He was wearing a rumpled pair of jeans and a tight shirt with artistic text splattered all over it. Hermione managed to read the words 'cut to the core' before Draco looked over his shoulder to see her.

He was beautiful. He was dazzling. He was amazing. Anyone who was anybody was his friend, and anyone who breathed had seen his face on the front of endless magazines. Draco Malfoy was, many said, a musical genius, surpassing Reznor and Cobain with his skills and creativity. Hermione crudely suspected other people were paid to do all of the work and Draco merely took all the credit.

Still, Hermione had to hand it to him - he was lovely. He was aristocratically pale, and charming, and he didn't even seem to recognise her. In fact, when he rose to say hello and to shake her hand, not even a little bit of surprise flickered in his ice grey eyes. Hermione felt incredibly pleased.

Unfortunately, when she turned on her heel to beckon him out of the room towards a more reasonable place for the interview, Draco said to her, "Nice ass, Granger."


	2. An Offer

Hrm. As another few notes, this story will include slash, swearing, and really ridiculous plotlines. I have no idea what I am doing. Oh, Hello, I am a coconut.

Also, story is blatantly AU. As in, no Voldemort. Duh.

xxx

CHAPTER TWO

"It's been years and you're still such a pig," Hermione sniffed.

Draco shrugged. "It's a habit. But still. That's a really great ass."

Hermione glowered, then lead the way in. "This is the room where we will proceed with the interview."

"Just an interview?"

"Just stop talking unless I ask you a direct question."

"Whatever makes you happy, Granger," Draco said, rolling his eyes as he went and sat on the leather couch. If one were to look out the window several stories down, one would see the hundreds of fans clustered on the pavement screaming for Draco.

Draco was very… smiling. That was something Hermione could give him. Fame had mellowed him out incredibly. Or maybe he had always had a crush on her but was too afraid of his father's disapproval to let on.

Er… Probably the former, aha.

Hermione sat on the armchair across from him with her notebook and pen so that she could write down his physical reactions. She set a tape recorder on the coffee table between them and pressed the record button. Then she chewed on the tip of her pen for a moment before saying, "So, Draco, how's the tour coming?"

Draco gave her the thumbs up, the perfect picture of a quirky celebrity. "Great. Really great. Better than expected, actually."

Hermione looked politely interested "How so?"

And they continued on for a half-hour more. Draco was very polite, and rather humorous. Hermione found herself amused despite herself.

After Draco answered the last question and Hermione stopped recording, Draco looked at her and said, "So… want to go out?"

Hermione stared.

Draco rolled his eyes after about a minute. "Granger, I'm talking to you."

"Obviously, since I'm the only other person in the room," Hermione snapped, flustered.

"So, do you want to go out?"

"Er."

Draco said, "We could catch up."

"There's nothing to catch up on, Draco," Hermione pointed out dryly.

"Oh, but there is," Draco replied, with a bit of a smirk. "I'd like to know how someone as anal as you got to be so successful. Besides… we could talk more. I'm sure an intensive article on me would be the key for you to jump ahead in your career."  
Hermione chewed pensively on her bottom lip. "What's in it for you?"

Draco smiled charmingly. "Dinner with a pretty girl," he said.

"You are such a prat," Hermione said, with a sigh. She couldn't resist a free meal with a rock star. "But alright."

xxx

"Auuuugh, stupid stupid stupid," Hermione moaned, slamming her forehead against her computer screen.

She picked up her phone and dialled, waiting tensely and hoping Ginny would pick up.

"Hello?"

"Ginny!" Hermione all but wailed. Then she lowered her voice so that everyone else in the office would stop staring at her. "Ginny, I just did something really stupid!"

"Like what?" Ginny asked, intrigued. She had just left the tanning salon and was feeling like her day just kept getting better and better. "Does it involve pineapples?"

"Draco Malfoy asked me out and I said yes," Hermione agonised.

"_Nice_!" Ginny cried, impressed. "Maybe you'll even get to sleep with him! Oh, and then you could have his illegitimate baby and it'll make the headlines and then Lucius will have you and your child murdered in a bloodless coup to erase the taint upon the family tree!"

"Ginny, this is serious!"

"Okay, okay," Ginny soothed. "I'll be at your place. Meet you when you get off work, okay?"

"Okay," Hermione muttered. "See you then."

"And don't freak out and jump out of a window before then, alright?"

"Fine."

xxx

"Holy shit," Draco said to his friend Blaise, sounding positively gleeful, "My father will have a fit!"

"Probably," Blaise agreed.

Blaise was a metrosexual with nice nails and a trendy apartment. He was one of Draco's best friends, and also happened to be living near Draco own beachfront residence, which explained Draco's presence. There was no way he was going to try to visit a place on the other side of town lest he risk alerting his fans to his movements.

"I couldn't help myself," Draco said, with a bit of a sigh, "She was attractive and un-Granger-like."

"And she's a muggleborn," Blaise pointed out.

"Exactly," Draco grinned.

"But it's not like you're marrying her," Blaise said, making himself a Bloody Mary at the bar. "You'd have to draw attention to the fact you're dating her in order to piss Lucius off properly."

"True," Draco admitted, sinking into one of Blaise's white couches. Blaise went to stand at the floor-to-ceiling window to admire the view as he drank.

"How is your father, anyway?" Blaise inquired.

Draco shrugged. "The usual."

"Acting like he has three voices in his head?"

"Yeah."

xxx

Tonks realised with a shock that she was late for work. She clambered out of bed, hitting the floor with a painful thud, and knocking the glass of water on her bed stand to the carpet.

"Ow." She muttered, and laid there for a moment. Then she checked her watch, remembered the time, and half ran, half stumbled, into the bathroom, tearing her nightclothes off as she did so.

_I never should have taken a night shift_, she thought sourly to herself. It was seven fifteen already - she had to be there by seven thirty. "Fuck fuckity fuck," she snarled, after brushing her teeth and washing her face. She began to apply mascara with her mouth hanging open. All women did it. She wondered briefly if men did it, too. She'd have to ask around.

Her hair was a snarled, tangled mess, so instead of brushing it she went into her kitchen, got out a pair of scissors, and began to hack it off. That was one of the perks of being a Metamorphmagi - you could have the most horrid haircut in the world but grow out a better one in a few seconds, if you concentrated right.

The phone began to ring.

"Shit," she swore, and located it, after ten second of fruitless searching, beneath the cushions on the couch. She answered it, hoping it wasn't her boss.

It wasn't.

"Tonks," Draco said on the other end.

"Oh, God," Tonks said, "Can't this wait? Really, Draco, I love you loads but I'm late for work."

"Christ, you're a bitch," Draco said. "Right, I'll call you when?"

"Try tomorrow morning."

"Tonks!"

"What? I need to work on a project tonight with a bunch of other aurors. Top secret, you know."

"Does it involve cocaine?"

"Damn, you're good! Talk to you later." She hung up.

Luckily, she remembered, right before jumping into the fireplace and flooing to the Ministry of Magic minutes later, that she had no clothes on.


	3. Some Advice

CHAPTER THREE

Hermione was moping. She stared sullenly at her cup of herbal tea, and every now and then stirred it with a spoon.

"Stop moping," Ginny ordered. Ginny Weasley was tall and slender and had the attitude of an Amazon Queen, which some men found sexually exciting and others found absolutely terrifying. Ginny didn't care. That's what made her even more attractive. "I don't even know what you're moping about. One of the hottest musicians of our age has asked you out to dinner and an interview with him could give you your dream job. Why are you so upset?"

"It's Draco Malfoy," Hermione pointed out.

Ginny paused. "Oh yeah."

"Exactly," Hermione said. "And why do I have tea? Where's my alcohol?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'll get the salt and the tequila."

While Ginny busied herself with margaritas, she asked, "Oh, hey… where are you going?"

"I have no idea," Hermione said, sighing. "He's supposed to call me, which is stupid because that just makes me somewhat pathetic in the inner structure of relationship building."

"You read too many of your magazine articles," Ginny scoffed.

"Do not," Hermione muttered.

"Hey, here's an idea," Ginny said, perking up. "Call Professor Snape."

"_What_?"

"No, seriously, I love phoning him. It's like talking to Death's secretary."

Hermione stared. "I'll have to pass on that. How'd you get his number, anyway?"

"I know _everyone's _number," Ginny said, primly. "I could call Albus Dumbledore up right now and we could have tea."

"Disturbing," Hermione said. "Anyway. What am I going to wear?"

Augh, the dreaded clothing question. Hermione hated to say it. It made her sound like a squealing fifteen-year-old who just got asked out by the cutie who worked at the hotdog stand.

Ginny looked thoughtful. "I guess you can't decide until you know where he's taking you. Here, I have an idea - let's go out to dinner instead, just you and me. Girl's night out."

"I have work tomorrow."

"No you don't, tell them you're doing field research for your Draco Malfoy article."

"_Ginny_," Hermione protested.

"No," Ginny said, wagging her finger in front of Hermione's nose. "Go put on something eye-catching. I'll call the twins and Lavender and we can go dancing."

Hermione had no choice but to obey.

xxx

While Hermione had declined an offer to phone her old teacher, it was the first thing Draco did when he got back to his beach house.

Severus Snape had actually quit his job two years ago in a fit of what some may have referred to as a mental breakdown. But in reality, Severus, finally driven to his wits, left Hogwarts behind and dove into muggle society and was now working as a messenger between rival gangs, the mafia, and the black market. Since he found this job a hell of a lot easier than his old job as a professor, Severus was far more laid back these days.

But he was also a wealth of information, being an adult and therefore relatively logical. Draco found it incredibly comforting to be called an idiot by a man who was actually more clever than he was, and not just jealous of Draco's wealth.

"You're an idiot," Severus was saying into his cell phone. He was currently disabling a bomb in someone's basement. He had five minutes left - plenty of time.

"Yes, I know," Draco said. "So, after I take Granger out and after several unsavoury things happen-"

"That was a bad mental picture."

"-Then would you care to let it slip to my father?"

"Draco, it's really not in my best interest to piss off your father-"

"I'll pay you five hundred dollars."

"But then again, you're offering me five hundred dollars, and I'm not above petty bribery. When are you taking her out, anyway?" Carefully, skilfully, Severus snipped apart a pair of wires and reconnected them, keeping the cell phone pinned securely to his ear using his shoulder.

"Day after tomorrow."

"Where are you taking her?"

"I was thinking maybe that seafood place on the corner of 82nd ave."

"No," Severus said immediately, disconnecting a few cables as he said it. "Classy girl like Granger - I understand she's working for a magazine company now, yes? - she'll want something elegant, like The Red Fan on 97th."

"Hmm, yes," Draco said, thoughtfully. Then he added, "Oh, wait. I'm not bothering you or interrupting anything, am I? Because I'll call back, sir."

"Oh, you're not interrupting anything, Draco," Severus said mildly.


End file.
